Continuity
by hughville
Summary: This is what I think should have happened after Cameron resigned. Contains spoilers for Seasons 4 and 5.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I borrowed the first bit from the Season 3 finale written by Lawrence Kaplow and Thomas L. Moran. No infringement is intended. I just needed to borrow their words to set up the events in my story. The following is what I think should have happened after Cameron resigned. **

_House: You now have a bigger office than I do. Why don't you go enjoy it?_

_Cameron holds out an envelope._

_House: Better be naked pictures._

_Cameron: My resignation letter. I've gotten all I can from this job._

_House: What do you expect me to do? Break down and apologize? Beg Chase to come back?_

_Cameron: No, I expect you to do what you always do. I expect you to make a joke and go on. I expect you to be just fine. I'll miss you._

Cameron turned and walked toward the door of House's office. House looked down at the floor, tapping his cane.

"Wait," he called out.

Cameron turned to look at him. Slowly, he limped toward her. "Wait," he said again. Reaching around her, he placed his hand against the door, blocking her exit.

"House, what are you…" she began.

"Shut up," he told her. He dropped his cane and pulled her into his arms. Cameron gasped as his mouth covered hers. His tongue slid into her open mouth. Her eyes widened before drifting closed. She melted against him, returning his kiss. Her arms encircled him. He pressed her against the door. He slid his hands up under her blouse, stroking her skin. She whimpered against his mouth.

He staggered and nearly fell when she pushed against him. Grabbing his arm, she steadied him. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Don't go," he muttered.

"House," she sighed. "You can't do this."

He moved toward her again. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the naked desire there. Her breath quickened.

"Don't go," he said again. Reaching out, he gently stroked her face. "Stay. With me."

"Chase," she began.

House dipped his head and covered her mouth with his. She felt the familiar curl of desire. She felt it when he looked at her sometimes. She'd felt it when she kissed him once before. When she thought he had incurable brain cancer. She felt it again, more strongly this time.

"Stay," he whispered again.

She leaned her forehead against his chest. "I can't work for you anymore," she told him. "It's too hard."

"I'm not asking you to work for me. I'm asking you to stay. Spend the night with me."

Pulling back, she stared at him. Slowly, she nodded.

House pushed the box into the living room. Cameron stood just inside the door. He shrugged out of his coat, threw his cane onto the couch and turned to her.

"Close the door," he told her. Slowly, she closed the door. She watched as he limped down the hallway. He stopped at the entrance to his bedroom.

"You coming?" he asked.

_Well what did you expect?_ she asked herself. She removed her coat and suit jacket. She dropped them over the back of the couch and followed House to his bedroom. He stood beside the bed, staring out the window. She stopped behind him and reached out to lightly touch his arm.

"I'm not any good at romantic gestures," he commented, his gaze still fixed on the view outside the window.

"I know," she told him.

Turning to her, he scowled at her. "I want you," he said.

Slowly, she pulled her blouse over her head and dropped it on the floor. House turned and flicked the light on. She reached out and slid his jacket from his shoulders. Next she removed his shirt. Standing on tiptoe, she pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. She smiled and stroked the light furring of hair on his chest. He continued to watch her from under lowered brows. Reaching around behind her back, she unhooked her bra and slid the straps off her arms. House slowly lifted his left hand and brushed his fingers against her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed. A moan escaped her when his mouth closed over her left breast and his tongue stroked her nipple. Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle. Taking a deep breath to steady her hands, she unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. She pushed the jeans down and then stooped to remove his shoes. House let her pull his jeans from his body. His hands shook as he unzipped her pants. She kicked off her shoes and pushed her pants to one side. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. Turning, he sank onto the bed, pulling her against him. He lay back and watched as she removed her panties. Reaching out, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxer shorts. He lifted his hips as she pulled them from him. She stared at him. She pushed his legs apart and leaned over him. Leaning down, she took him into her mouth. He stiffened and gripped the blankets as her tongue swirled over his hardened shaft. Climbing up onto the bed, she lay beside him and kissed him. He pushed her back against the bed and kissed her again.

"I want you now," he whispered against her mouth. He lay back and looked at her. She reached out and touched the long scar on his right leg. Her fingers traced over it.

"Don't," he growled, grabbing her hand. He pulled her against him.

"Why?" she asked.

He pulled her down and kissed her. He maneuvered her so that she straddled him. She sighed. Moving over him, careful not to put weight on his right thigh, she slid down on him. As he entered her, she sighed again. His hands gripped her hips. She began to move, slowly sliding up and down on him. His breathing quickened and he moaned. She continued to move. He closed his eyes and gripped her more tightly. She could feel herself becoming more aroused as she thrust against him. She was nearly on the verge of an orgasm when he cried out and jerked against her. She slid off him and lay beside him. Turning his head, he looked at her for several long moments.

"Did you..?" he asked.

She shook her head. Rising on one elbow, he slipped his hand between her legs. Slowly, he began to rub her. She tried to catch her breath, but failed. She arched her back and moaned as he continued to stroke her. He watched her intently. Finally, she convulsed and cried out as she climaxed. He pulled his hand away and kissed her again.

"Stay," he whispered.

She nodded.

Cameron awoke. She was momentarily disoriented. Then it all came flooding back to her. She was in House's bed. He lay on his side beside her, sleeping. She carefully sat up and looked at him. Sleeping, he looked more approachable. No scowl marred his features. His face was softer, more relaxed. She slid from the bed and retrieved his shirt from the floor. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she buttoned it as she wandered out into the living room. She stood beside the box House brought in earlier. She went into the kitchen and got a knife. Returning to the living room, she carefully slit the tape on the box and opened it. Peering inside, she smiled. She pulled out the guitar case and placed it on the piano.

"What are you doing?" House asked her. He stood by the couch wearing pajama bottoms. His hair was tousled and he blinked sleepily. Cameron felt her heart beat more rapidly at the sight of him.

"I was curious," she told him.

He limped forward, his right hand pressed against his leg. He opened the guitar case and pulled the guitar out.

"Wilson says I resist change," he commented. He sank down on the piano bench and lightly strummed the guitar. He began to play and Cameron was amazed at the change in him. A look of pure bliss transformed his face. It was the same look she'd seen earlier. To him music was orgasmic; pure joy.

The song ended and he looked at her. He rose carefully and removed the guitar that hung on the wall behind the piano. Leaning it against the wall, he hung up his new guitar. He turned back and regarded her appraisingly.

"My shirt looks good on you," he told her. "Are you staying?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

He rubbed his leg. "Are you staying or not?"

Shaking her head, she headed back to the bedroom. She settled into the bed and watched him enter.

He removed his pajama bottoms and slid into bed beside her.

"You'll regret this," he commented.

"I know."

Reaching out, he pulled her against him.

Two months later, Cameron looked around the emergency room. She was being watched. She saw House leaning against the doorway leading to the main area of the hospital. He watched her from under lowered brows. She decided to ignore him for the moment. Turning her attention back to the patient, she turned her back on him.

She felt him standing behind her. She continued to study the chart in her hands.

"Meet me in the sleep lab," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked quietly over her shoulder.

"My leg hurts."

That was always his reason for wanting to sleep with her. He said the endorphins from the sex helped relieve some of his pain. She'd been "relieving" his pain at least twice a day for the past two months. Sometimes they met in the sleep lab, other times they met in one of the storage rooms in the basement. No one knew of their affair. Not Cuddy, Wilson or Chase. Chase was a particular problem. He and Cameron continued to date, but he had no idea she was sleeping with House. She had no intention of telling him until she knew better where she stood with House. Sometimes she hated herself for being unable to resist her former boss. She always told herself that she wouldn't sleep with him again; that she would tell him no. She never did. She always met him in the sleep lab, the storage room or his apartment. She always gave in. She always hoped he would tell her he loved her.

Cameron felt his breath on her neck. "Sleep lab. Five minutes," he commanded.

When she turned around, he was gone. Sighing, she hung the chart on the end of the bed.

"I'll be back," she told the nurse at the reception desk.

The sleep lab was deserted. House sat in front of the bank of monitors in the observation room, feet propped on the desk, cane twirling between his fingers. When she entered, he glanced at his watch.

"Seven minutes," he drawled.

"You're an ass," she told him.

He smiled a slow seductive smile. "If I'm an ass why do continue to meet me for these little trysts?"

She folded her arms and looked at him reprovingly. "That's a good question." She turned to leave.

"You're not going anywhere," he told her. She could hear the laughter in his voice. "You like the feel of me inside you too much."

She turned and stared at him coldly. "You're an ass," she repeated.

"And you want me," he told her, smug and confident.

She watched him twirl the cane. She looked at his long fingers; fingers which brought her so much pleasure. She looked at his mouth, lips stretched in that infuriating smile. She thought of those surprisingly soft lips against her skin. She looked into his eyes. Those startlingly blue eyes that darkened with desire when he looked at her.

She advanced on him. Pushing his feet onto the floor, she grabbed the cane from his hand and dropped it on the floor. She reached out and unzipped his jeans. She pushed her scrub pants and panties down. She pulled House's hardening penis out of his boxer shorts and stroked him. His breath quickened. She straddled him, angling her hips so that he slid inside her. She rocked back and forth on him. His hands gripped her waist and he grunted as she moved on him. Then he moaned and jerked against her. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes. Slowly, she stood up and pulled her panties and scrubs back up. Her hand was on the door knob when his voice stopped her.

"Don't do that again," he warned her. "You're not a whore."

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. "Aren't I?' she asked quietly.

He didn't answer immediately, but she could hear him zipping his jeans up.

"No," he told her brusquely. "Meet me at my apartment after work."

"I can't," she told him. "I made plans with Chase."

"Cancel them," he told her. Pushing the door open, he moved past her and left.

She leaned her head against the door and allowed the tears to come. She knew she would cancel her plans with Chase, offering some excuse. Then she would go to House. She hated herself for it. Wiping her eyes, she pushed away from the door. She looked up into House's blue eyes. The tears came flooding back.

"I hate you," she sobbed.

"I know," he whispered. He pulled her into his arms. His hand stroked her hair. "I know."

"And I hate myself more because I want you so much. Why do I want you so much?"

He pulled back and looked down at her. "I don't know," he told her sadly.

Leaning her head against his chest, she whispered, "What time do you want me to come over?"

He sighed. "About eight."

She nodded and pushed away from him. This time she left and didn't look back.

Cameron sat against the wall outside House's door. Looking at her watch again, she saw that it was nine o'clock. How long was she going to sit like a pathetic fool and wait for him? He'd obviously forgotten. She lifted a strand of her newly blonde hair and examined it. Changing her hair color had been a last minute whim. She'd gone for her hair appointment that afternoon; as she sat in the chair and her stylist asked what she wanted to do, she'd blurted out that she wanted to go blonde. When she looked at herself in the mirror for the first time, she'd liked what she'd seen. The blonde hair made her seem less serious; made her feel lighter. After the incident with House in the sleep lab, she needed to feel frivolous and light. Leaning her head against the wall, she sighed. Since starting this secret affair with House, she seemed to sigh often. She looked at her watch again. Nine fifteen. How long would she sit here, waiting? _Forever_, her treacherous mind whispered. _You'd wait forever just to feel his hands and mouth on you again; to feel him inside you. To see that look of bliss on his face and know you were the cause of it, not some random piece of music._ She wondered if this was how addicts felt about their drug of choice.

A key rattled in the outer lock. Cameron looked up as the door swung open. For a brief moment, she saw a look of panic on House's face. It disappeared the moment his eyes met hers. A look of shock replaced it.

"What the hell did you do to your hair?" he asked. He stepped over her feet and unlocked the door to his apartment. She rose and followed him.

He tossed his cane on the couch and shrugged out of the suit jacket he wore over his t-shirt. She stood just inside the door and ran her hand over her silky blonde hair,

"I figured if I'm playing the hooker in this little scenario, I should look the part," she informed him coolly.

House gripped the back of the couch and she watched as the muscles in his back contracted.

He began slowly making his way to the bedroom. "I like it," he commented over his shoulder.

She followed and stood in the doorway, arms folded. "Why are you late?" she asked.

"Cuddy gave me a patient."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Forgot. Take your clothes off."

Cameron made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. "I sat in that entry and waited for you for over an hour and that's all you have to say? You have a patient and you want me to undress?"

"Yep." He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and then sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. Cameron felt the familiar heat rising in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him. She groaned in frustration. Why did he have to be so damned sexy? Why did he have to be so muscular and fit? He was a cripple. He should be soft and out of shape. Instead he was hard and firm.

She drew in a deep breath. "You're not going to apologize for making me wait, are you?"

He threw his belt across the room in frustration. "Take your damn clothes off or leave!" he snarled. "I told you! I have a patient! They dug her out of a pile of rubble after a building collapsed on her. Cuddy has been bitching and moaning about her all afternoon. So, I really don't need you bitching and moaning because you had to wait outside for a few minutes." He pushed his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key. He threw it at her. "There's your key to the apartment. Next time you won't have to wait outside." He limped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Cameron bent down and picked up the key. She replayed the last two sentences in her head. _There's your key to the apartment. Next time you won't have to wait outside. _A slow satisfied smile spread across her face. He'd said _your key_. He'd had it made for her. She knew the only other person who had a key to his apartment was Wilson. She mattered to him.

She quickly removed her clothes and jumped into the bed. House looked at her in surprise when he opened the bathroom door.

"You stayed," he commented.

"You're still dressed," she countered. "Get over here."

House sat on the desk in the auditorium and twirled his cane. He'd paged Cameron five minutes ago. He idly stared at his shoes. The door opened and he continued to stare at his shoes.

"You paged me?" Cameron asked.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He had gotten used to the blonde hair. He liked it. He normally preferred dark haired women, but Cameron as a blonde was strangely arousing. She was standing with her hands on her narrow hips, looking at him, head tilted.

"Cuddy wants me to choose," he informed her.

She folded her arms. "So choose," she told him.

"Who do you think I should choose?"

She laughed in disbelief. "You've already asked everyone else. Why does it matter what I think?"

He tapped his cane against the floor. "It matters," he muttered.

"Taub, Kutner and Amber." She turned and left.

House slid from the desk and followed her. "Why?" he called after her.

"They'll balance you," she called over her shoulder.

He limped faster to catch up to her. He stopped behind her at the bank of elevators. "Come over tonight," he whispered.

She nodded and entered the elevator. She never turned to look at him. He bowed his head and sighed.

Wilson looked at House. The cafeteria was crowded and House was strangely quiet. That was never a good sign. He wasn't trying to steal Wilson's food or making snarky comments. Something was definitely wrong. Wilson saw Chase and Cameron enter. They moved through the food line, laughing. House looked up and turned to watch them. Wilson watched as House's eyes narrowed and his expression turned grimmer. His eyes followed the couple as they paid for their food and sat at a table. He turned away and rubbed his forehead. Wilson saw the pain in his best friend's eyes. Suddenly everything fell into place for Wilson.

"Oh, oh, oh!" he whispered urgently, pointing an accusing finger at House. "You're sleeping with Cameron. Don't try to deny it!"

"Shut up. No I'm not," House said unconvincingly. He refused to meet Wilson's eyes.

"Yes, you are! That's why you never want to do anything anymore. You're sleeping with her!"

House rose and walked stiffly out of the cafeteria. Wilson shook his head and watched him go.

Wilson leaned against the wall outside House's apartment. He straightened up when he heard the key in the outer lock. Cameron closed the door and jumped with fright when she saw Wilson.

"Wilson!" she gasped.

"I was right," he commented. "You're sleeping with him."

She shook her head. "N..n..no…" she stuttered.

Wilson held a hand out to stop her. "Don't bother denying it. He's given you a key. He's jealous of Chase," he told her. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I love him,' Cameron whispered.

"Then don't hurt him," Wilson told her quietly. "He won't recover."

He walked past her and left. Cameron stared at the key in her hand. With a shaking hand, she unlocked the door to House's apartment. She entered quietly. House was stretched out on the couch, sleeping. A nearly empty bottle of Scotch sat on the table. An empty tumbler sat beside the bottle. Cameron looked at him. She reached out and stroked his hair back from his forehead. He jerked awake at her touch.

"You're late," he slurred.

"And you're drunk," she told him. Walking around the couch, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

"I saw you with Chase. Laughing. You never laugh with me," he sneered.

"Come on." She steadied him and began leading him down the hallway to the bathroom. She eased him onto a small stool. She pulled his t-shirt over his head and then turned the water on in the shower. She pulled him to his feet again. He swayed as she unzipped his jeans and pulled them off. As she pulled his boxers off, he belched.

"Very sexy," she commented sarcastically. "Wilson knows about us."

"He's a smart son of a bitch," House told her. "Always figuring things out."

Cameron shook her head and helped him into the shower.

He yelped as the cold water washed over him. He tried to exit the shower but she pushed him back in.

"Unh unh," she told him.

She finally let him out when he began to shiver. Wrapping a towel around him, she sat him on the stool again and dried his hair.

"Why do you keep coming back?" he asked her. He no longer slurred his words.

"I'm a pathetic idiot, remember?"

"I'm twice your age. I'm a damned cripple. I can never give you what you deserve," he told her.

"And how do you know what I deserve?" she smiled.

"I know you don't deserve to be saddled with a miserable ass like me," he told her quietly.

"Maybe I like miserable asses," she told him, looking into his eyes.

"You should leave and never come back."

She shook her head. "I can't."

He rose carefully and slipped his arms around her. Lowering his head, he kissed her. She tugged on the towel and dropped it on the floor. His kiss became hard and desperate. He pulled her clothes off and pushed her down onto the floor. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere on her body at one time. She gasped and panted as he licked her nipple. His hand slid between her legs and he stroked her. Then he was moving over her.

"Wait," she panted. "Your leg…"

"Stop talking."

She tried to push him onto his back, but he thrust into her and she lost all coherent thought as he filled her. She cried out as he moved with slow deliberate strokes. His chest rubbed against her breasts and she closed her eyes. Then she was climaxing, waves of intense pleasure spiraling over her. She was dimly aware of him shouting her name and jerking against her.

"I'll come back later," Wilson commented from the doorway. Cameron watched him walk down the hallway, eyes wide with shock.

House collapsed against her.

"House," she whispered. "Wilson…"

"He always did have terrible timing," House rasped.

Cameron closed her eyes. _Perfect_, she thought

Wilson sat on the couch. House limped into the living room. Wilson saw with relief that he wore jeans and a t-shirt. Finding House and Cameron on the bathroom floor had been shocking to say the least. He knew they were sleeping together but to actually see them…Wilson shook his head.

"Sorry," he told house. "I knocked, but when you didn't answer I got worried. I thought Cameron went home."

House slouched on the couch beside him. "She's hiding in the bedroom; too embarrassed to face you."

"That doesn't seem to be a problem for you," Wilson commented drily.

House shrugged. "What do you want?"

"I don't know. I thought we might go see a movie. Maybe get a drink."

House tilted his head and regarded Wilson. "Think I'll pass."

"Yeah, I figured." Wilson rose and walked to the door. He turned back to House. "Are you in love with her?"

"Good night, Wilson," House told him.

Wilson sighed. "Good night, House."

The bus accident left Cameron reeling. House was seriously injured. She carefully sutured his head wound, trying not to let her fear and panic show. She couldn't understand why he'd gotten drunk. The emergency room was filled to capacity with victims of the accident. She didn't get a chance to speak to him. She watched with concern as he tried to remember the patient whose symptom he'd seen while riding the bus. The following day she watched in horror as he collapsed on the bus during the recreation of the accident. With no regard for what the others would think, she knelt beside him and began helping Wilson perform CPR. When House gasped and opened his eyes, she couldn't stop the tears that flooded her eyes.

"Your heart stopped," she whispered brokenly. "You could have died."

"It was Amber," he whispered. ""She's the one who's dying."

Cameron thought that would be the end of it. House and Wilson brought Amber to Princeton Plainsboro. When Amber died and House slipped into a coma she felt she was trapped in the worst nightmare of her life. She sat beside House's bed and waited for him to open his eyes.

"Please, House," she whispered. She pressed a kiss against his temple.

"I was right," Chase said quietly from the doorway. "You're in love with him." He shook his head and turned away. She watched him walk away and then turned her attention back to House.

His eyes slowly opened and focused on her. Opening his mouth, he tried to speak.

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Shhh, don't," she told him.

He briefly closed his eyes and then focused on her again.

"Blink if you understand what I'm saying to you," she told him. She was crying, but she didn't care. House blinked and she felt his hand brush against her arm as he tried to lift it. She took his hand in her own and held it. He pulled her weakly toward him.

"Just rest," she told him. She ran her hand lightly over his face. She felt him pull her toward him again. He tried to shift in the bed.

"Are you in pain?" she asked with concern.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He pulled on her again. "Hold me," he whispered.

Cameron suddenly understood what he wanted. Carefully, she pulled back the blanket covering him and slid into the bed next to him. Resting her head on his chest, she heard him sigh and felt him relax. She looked up and saw Wilson standing at the entrance to House's ICU room. Wilson stared at them dully. Cameron wanted to go to him; talk to him about Amber; help him deal with his loss. Feeling House's hand against her back, she knew she couldn't leave him. Cameron slid her leg between House's legs and carefully laid her arm across his chest. Wilson turned to leave and she felt her heart contract at the sight of his grief stricken face. She closed her eyes.

"You drugged him!" Cameron said accusingly.

"Are you going to help me get him into the car or not?" Wilson asked. He stood beside his car, hands on his hips, looking at her with an expression of exasperation. House sat slumped in a wheelchair. "And I didn't drug him. Cuddy did."

Cameron blew out a sigh of disgust. She grabbed one of House's arms and pulled. Wilson jumped forward and grabbed his other arm. The two of them maneuvered House's limp body into the passenger seat of Wilson's car.

"He's heavier than he looks," Wilson panted.

"He's unconscious," Cameron snapped. She opened the back door of the car and slid in. Wilson fastened the seat belt around House and closed the door. He walked around the car, got in and started the engine.

Cameron folded her arms and looked at the back of his head. "Why are you doing this? You haven't spoken to him since Amber died. Why do this?"

"I'm doing it for his mother," Wilson told her.

Cameron snorted and looked out the window. "You miss him."

Wilson didn't respond. He stared straight ahead, his attention focused on the road.

They had been traveling for nearly an hour when House stirred in the front seat. He lifted his head and looked around in confusion. Cameron saw him turn his head and look at Wilson. House smiled slightly. Cameron sighed in relief. She knew that Wilson would forgive House and they would resume their friendship.

The funeral home was crowded with military personnel. Cameron looked around for House's mother. She spotted her in the main room talking to someone. When Blythe House spotted her son, the look of relief on her face warmed Cameron's heart. She and Wilson stood to one side as mother and son embraced. Cameron looked around, feeling self conscious. House's mother thanked Wilson for bringing her son and then turned to Cameron.

"You're Cameron, aren't you?" Blythe asked, smiling. "Greg has told me so much about you."

Cameron looked at House. He refused to meet her eyes. She remembered the first time she'd met House's parents. His father had made the same comment and then admitted he liked to tease his son. Cameron had understood that House never mentioned her to his parents. She looked at Blythe in surprise.

"He told me how much you help him; how much he enjoys spending time with you," Blythe continued.

"Mom, please," House said quietly. He stared at the floor and tapped his cane against the hard surface.

Blythe hugged Cameron and whispered, "You're the first woman he's mentioned since Stacey."

Cameron returned the older woman's hug, tears stinging her eyes.

"Does she have a first name?" Blythe asked her son, a teasing note in her voice.

"Alison," House muttered.

Blythe turned to Cameron again. "Thank you for helping James, Alison."

Cameron nodded. She felt Wilson press a tie into her hand. He and Blythe moved into the main room.

Cameron took House's arm and led him to a chair in a quiet corner. She pushed him down into the chair and lifted the collar of his shirt. She buttoned the top buttons of his shirt and slipped the tie around his neck. He watched her as she knotted the tie.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Wilson asked me for help."

"So you did this for Wilson," he remarked. She thought she saw a look of pain cross his face but it vanished.

She looked into his eyes. "No, I did this for you."

They sat in a diner, eating. House grabbed some fries from Cameron's plate and ate them. She was used to him taking food from her plate and no longer protested when he did it. At the moment she was enjoying sitting next to House, listening to him talk to Wilson. They were discussing House's latest patient but Cameron wasn't really paying attention. She let their voices wash over her. She was intensely aware of House's thigh pressed against hers, his arm brushing hers as he talked. He turned to rest his back against the corner of the booth and put his right leg in her lap. Pulling out his cell phone, he made a call, continuing his bantering conversation with Wilson. Cameron stared at nothing in particular and rubbed House's thigh. She became aware of Wilson's eyes on her. He looked at her with a mixture of understanding and envy. He smiled slightly and turned his attention back to House. Cameron turned to look at House. As she continued to knead the knotted muscles in his thigh, she realized how lucky she was. House could have died in that bus accident. She could be mourning the loss of the man she loved so deeply, just as Wilson was mourning Amber. House reached out and grabbed her glass, draining it. She shook her head and smiled ruefully at Wilson. Wilson laughed.

"Are you sure about this?" Cameron asked House.

"I can't go on a job interview with this," he told her, rubbing his hand over his beard. He sat on a stool in the bathroom. Cameron stood beside the sink, a can of shaving foam in one hand, a disposable razor in the other.

She held the razor out to him. "You should do this," she told him.

"I haven't shaved in years," he reminded her. "I know that you shaved just this morning." He smirked at her.

"My legs, House," she retorted. "Not my face. There's a difference, you know."

He sighed in amused exasperation. "Are you going to do this or not?"

Laying the can and razor on the edge of the sink, she turned on the hot water and allowed the water to run before soaking a wash cloth. She tossed the soaking wet cloth over House's face. He laughed. She removed it and squirted shaving foam into her hand. Carefully, she smeared it over his chin and cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the razor. With slow deliberate strokes, she shaved him. When she finished she gently wiped the remaining shaving foam from his face. She stood back and gasped.

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Is it that bad?" he asked.

"No," she told him. "I never realized…"

He stood up and looked in the mirror, making a face. Cameron reached out and stroked his smooth cheek.

"Do you like it or not?" he asked her.

"I like it," she told him. "You're…handsome, House."

House looked at her in amused disbelief. "Well," he remarked sardonically. "I've been called a lot of things. Handsome was never one of them." Leaning forward, he kissed her. "Come help me pick out a suit. Then you can watch me sleep. Make sure I don't die during the night."

"Don't joke about that," she told him sharply.

House smirked at her and walked into the bedroom. Cameron followed and sat on the bed. He held up two ties.

"The red one or the striped one?" he asked her.

"The red one with your navy blue suit," she told him.

"It's the only suit I own," he reminded her.

"And you stole those ties from Wilson."

"Borrowed."

Cameron sat back against the headboard and looked at him. He was relaxed and happy. She knew the methadone eliminated his pain, but the side effects of the medication terrified her. He no longer needed his cane and walked with only a slight limp. When Cuddy delivered her ultimatum earlier, House had come down to the ER and informed Cameron that he had resigned. She remembered his exact words. _She told me I couldn't work here and take methadone. I chose being pain free over this job. That okay with you? _She'd nodded and he'd left.

He climbed into the bed. Propping himself up on his elbow, he reached out and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "Are sure you're okay with this?" he asked her.

She stared at him in surprise. "You've changed."

"I'm not in pain," he told her. "It makes a difference. Would you like to see how much?"

Cameron smiled. "Show me."

He pulled her against him and kissed her, a slow languorous kiss. His mouth moved gently against hers, his tongue lightly stroking the inside of her mouth. His hands stroked her back and he eased her night shirt over her head. She undressed him, enjoying the sight of his muscled body. He took his time exploring her body. Usually, their lovemaking was a rushed affair. She refused to term it sex. Tonight, he slowly kissed her, slowly moved his hands over her body. Every touch, every move was slow and deliberate. When he finally entered her, she was nearly drunk with desire for him. As he moved in and out of her, she whimpered his name.

"Greg," he whispered against her ear. "Call me Greg."

"Yes, Greg!" she screamed as the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced stabbed through her.

She was dimly aware of him smiling down at her. She felt his mouth against her throat. "Alison," he whispered. She felt him convulse against her. Then he collapsed against her and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Told you it makes a difference," he breathed in her ear.

Cameron looked at the medicine cup containing House's dose of methadone. Slowly, she tossed it into the garbage can. House stood against his desk, head bowed.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

She moved toward him and placed her hand on his arm. "I just want you to be happy," she told him.

He drew in a long, slow breath and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm happy with you," he told her.

She smiled. It was the closest thing she would get to a declaration of love from him. It was enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Unreality**

House lay on his side. Sunlight filtered into the bedroom. He knew she was sitting in the chair, but he thought if he pretended to sleep, she would fade away.

"You can't fool me," she taunted. "I know you aren't sleeping."

He cautiously opened his eyes. Amber sat, legs crossed, hands folded primly in her lap, smiling at him. He turned his head slightly and looked at Cameron. She was curled against his back, sound asleep. He turned back to face the specter of Wilson's dead girlfriend.

"You aren't real," he whispered.

Amber swung her leg and smiled again. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?"

He squeezed his eyes closed. "You're not real," he said more forcefully. Behind him, Cameron stirred. He felt her stretch; heard her yawn.

"Greg?" she murmured. He felt her sit up slightly; felt her warm breath on his neck as she leaned over him. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," he responded quietly.

Amber laughed. "Oh, good one, Greg," she mocked. "Now you're lying to Alison."

House released the breath he'd been holding and turned to face Cameron.

"Are you working today?' he asked her. He already knew the answer but needed something to distract him from the sight of Amber.

Cameron pressed a kiss against his bare shoulder. "I don't go in until eleven," she told him.

"Wow, Greg," Amber continued in that same mocking tone. "I think Alison is horny. Maybe you should scratch her itch."

House closed his eyes as he felt Cameron's lips grazing his neck. He gasped when her hand slid beneath the covers and closed over him.

He rolled over and turned his back on the image of Amber. Her mocking laughter floated over him.

Suddenly she was on the bed behind Cameron. He squeezed his eyes closed. Cameron's hand slid gently against him. His breathing quickened and his heart rate accelerated. He could hear Amber's breathing increase. He moaned as Cameron's breast pressed against his arm. Amber echoed him.

"She feels good," Amber murmured. "So soft."

"Shut up," House gritted between his teeth.

Cameron's hand stilled on his penis and she looked at him in surprise. "I didn't say anything," she told him. "Are you okay?"

"Tell her not to stop," Amber whined behind her. "We're close. So close."

House began to shake. "Don't stop," he whispered.

"Yes," Amber moaned as Cameron kissed him and began to stroke him again.

House wrapped his arms around Cameron and pulled her on top of him.

"That's right," Amber whispered in his ear. "Take charge."

House shook his head and kissed Cameron again, trying to shut out Amber and her taunting.

He focused on the feel of Cameron's hands and mouth as they moved over his shivering skin. He could hear Amber panting in his ear.

"Touch her," Amber commanded. "Make her cry out. Come on, Greg. You know what she likes."

House pushed against Cameron's shoulders. She rose over him.

"Now," Amber whispered. "Inside her now."

"Now," House whispered. "I need to be inside you now."

Cameron smiled down at him. She moved back to straddle his hips. As she slid down over him, Amber cried out. House was aware of the same sound bursting from his own lips.

"She's so wet," Amber whispered.

"You're so wet," House whispered.

"And hot, she's so hot," Amber's warm breath fanned his cheek.

"So hot," he groaned.

"Touch her," Amber told him pointing to the area where their bodies joined. "She likes that. She makes that little whimpering noise when you touch her there."

House reached out and pressed his finger against Cameron.

"Stroke her gently," Amber instructed.

"Shut up," House ground out.

He looked at Cameron in alarm. Had she heard him? She continued to slide up and down on him, eyes closed, hands braced on his stomach.

"Don't worry," Amber taunted. "She's in the zone. Feel that? Her muscles are starting to contract. She's going to have an orgasm. Keep stroking. Thrust up against her."

House wanted to scream at Amber to shut up but he clamped his lips closed and concentrated on Cameron.

"You're never going to have an orgasm if you don't relax," Amber sang in his ear.

House pulled his hand away from Cameron and pushed himself up. Cameron leaned back slightly and allowed him to move back so his back rested against the head board. Leaning forward so that her breasts rubbed against his chest, she began to move against him again.

Amber stretched out on the bed and sighed. "That's better," she murmured. "Now you can feel her; get really close. I know how much you love it when her body touches yours."

House pressed his mouth to Cameron's shoulder. He nipped lightly at the muscle. Cameron moaned.

"Oh, there's that tightening again," Amber sang out.

House turned his head and looked at Amber. Amber smiled sweetly at him.

"Your turn," she laughed.

House felt himself being swept away on an intense wave of pleasure. He was dimly aware of Cameron falling against him. He was intensely aware of Amber laughing as he climaxed, jerking against Cameron, and shouting out her name.

"Yes, Alison!" Amber mimicked mockingly. "God, yes! So good! Don't stop!"

House cringed as he heard her voice echoing his. Cameron lay against him as he continued to thrust up against her. Then he stopped and lay still. His heart raced and his breath rasped in his chest. Cameron continued to lay on him, tiny shudders till moving through her, making little mewling sounds of pleasure.

"Listen to her," Amber crowed. "She's practically purring. Like a little kitten; a very satisfied little kitten." She laughed. House grimaced as the sound grated on his ears.

"I love you," Cameron whispered against his throat.

"I," he began.

"You can't say it," Amber taunted. "You won't."

"I," he began again. He felt the words freeze in his throat. "I know," he finished miserably.

"Told you so," Amber remarked with satisfaction.

House looked at Wilson. He tapped his cane and waited for the look of shock to fade from his best friend's face.

"You're hallucinating my dead girlfriend."

Amber stood behind Wilson, that same satisfied grin plastered across her face.

"I think he's shocked," Amber commented unnecessarily.

House rolled his eyes.

"Are you seeing her now?" Wilson asked, looking over his shoulder.

"She's my hallucination," House sighed. "Not yours."

Amber tilted her head and grinned. "He misses me."

"Shut up," House grumbled.

"Is she talking to you?" Wilson asked looking around.

"Wilson," House said in exasperation. "You can't see her so stop looking for her."

Wilson shook his head and focused on House. "Right," he nodded. "So what do you think is causing this?"

"I don't know," House told him. They resumed walking. "Infection, MS, psychosis, sleep apnea, the pills."

"Well," Wilson said. "I'll go get Cameron and we can do an LP to rule out infection and MS. I'll meet you in my exam room."

House nodded and watched the other man walk away.

"You shouldn't have told him," Amber crooned in his ear. "Now he'll be worried. And you know he'll tell your sweet little Alison. Then she'll leave you because you're certifiable."

House ignored her and began to walk toward Wilson's office.

"You know I'm right!" she called out after him.

House lay on the exam table, his knees pulled up against his chest, his back rounded. Cameron stood in front of him, holding his knees and his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his arm as she leaned over him.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt sick?" she asked.

"Yes, Greg," Amber cooed. "Why didn't you tell Alison you felt sick?" She tapped her finger against her chin. "Oh, that's right. You're not sick. You're hallucinating. But you can't tell her that." She pouted slightly, tilting her head.

"Okay," Wilson said from behind him. House shivered slightly as Wilson rubbed antiseptic on his back. Then he felt the tip of the needle pressing against his skin. He tensed and gasped softly as it slid into his spine.

"It's okay," Cameron whispered. He felt her breath brush his cheek as she leaned over him. He grimaced and leaned into her slightly.

"Almost done," Wilson told him. "Just hold still."

"I am," House grumbled.

Cameron's lips brushed his ear and he relaxed slightly. Her mouth moved against his cheek and his eyes drifted shut. He concentrated on the feel of her mouth against his skin. He was so focused on Cameron he never felt the needle slide from his back.

"Done," Wilson told him.

House opened his eyes and looked up at Cameron. She smiled down at him. He glanced behind her and saw Amber smiling at him.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

Cameron leaned down and pressed her lips against his. He could hear Amber laughing.

Cameron called him with the results of his LP. _Negative. It's not MS or an infection. _The words echoed in his head. He slowly closed his phone.

"That only leaves psychosis or the pills," Amber mused. She was leaning against his desk, hands folded in front of her. "Psychosis means no more medical license. You don't want that. You should just let it go."

House shook his head. "I'm not dealing with you for the rest of my life," he told her.

Opening his phone again, he hit a button and lifted the phone.

"Insulin shock," he said into the phone, never taking his eyes from Amber. She watched him with a mix of disappointment and suspicion.

Amber shook her head.

"I've been taking the pills for years," he replied to the person on the other end. "I've only been having these hallucinations for a few days."

He paused and smirked at Amber. "You might want to make that two minutes because I'm about to inject myself with insulin." He snapped the phone shut and picked up the vial of insulin.

Down in the cafeteria, Wilson leaped from the booth and ran toward the exit. He rounded the corner at a dead run. As he raced up the stairs, he dialed a number.

"Get up to House's office with glucose! He's going to inject himself with insulin!" he shouted into the phone.

He willed himself to run faster. He skidded slightly as he rounded the corner near House's office. He could see House seizing in his chair. Wilson grabbed the edge of the door to slow his forward momentum. House fell to the floor.

He grabbed House and tried to steady him. He heard running footsteps coming toward him.

"Oh my God!" Cameron gasped. She dropped to her knees beside House. Pulling the top off the syringe with her teeth, she plunged the needle into House's arm.

The ER was quiet. Cameron sat beside House's bed. Wilson paced behind her.

"Why?" Cameron asked.

Wilson shook his head. He couldn't tell her. He wouldn't betray House's trust; not even for Cameron. House would have to be the one to tell her. If he hadn't yet, Wilson wasn't going to do it for him. House would never forgive him.

House's eyes fluttered open. Cameron moved to stand beside him. She stroked his hair.

"What were you thinking, Greg?" she asked.

House's eyes flicked to Wilson. Wilson shook his head.

"Needed a new fix," House said carelessly. He sat up and thrust the curtain back. His eyes darted around the room. He sighed and relaxed. It had worked. No Amber smirking at him, taunting him, laughing at him.

Cameron stared at him incredulously. "A new fix?"

"Where are my pants?" he asked, looking around.

He looked at Wilson as Cameron's eyes narrowed and twin spots of angry color appeared in her cheeks.

"You," she began. She shook her head and reached behind her to grab his jeans. She threw them at him.

He looked down at the pants lying in a heap on the floor.

"You knew how I was when you agreed to move in with me," he commented quietly. "Don't act so surprised."

Only Wilson caught the slight look of pain that crossed House's face. He looked at Cameron's stiff back. Her fists balled at her side and she was panting with the effort to control herself.

"I'm staying here tonight," she informed him coldly before walking away.

House's shoulders slumped as he watched her walk away. "I can't tell her," he told Wilson quietly. "I can't."

Wilson bent to pick up House's pants. He held them out to his friend. House took them and stood up. He pulled them on and looked in confusion at the zipper.

"I can't remember how to do up my zipper," House commented.

Wilson pushed him back down onto the bed. He placed his hand on House's head and shined a light into his eyes.

"Any other neurological defects?" Wilson asked.

"I find you less annoying and Amber is gone," House replied.

House sat on the couch in their apartment. Cameron's jacket was slung over the back of the couch. Her glass from breakfast sat on the kitchen counter. The book she was reading lay on the coffee table.

Wilson had left after House admitted he wouldn't be able to go through rehab. House knew himself too well. He would cheat. He'd done it before. If he were going to detox, he would have to do it his way on his own terms.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"I need you," he said quietly into the phone. "Please come home. I really need you here." He turned the phone off and placed it on the table. He stared at the bottle of Vicodin.

"Just take one," Amber told him. She'd reappeared while he was packing earlier. "Your leg hurts. You need those pills."

House continued to stare at the pills, hands folded tightly in his lap.

"She expects you to take them," Amber reasoned. "She knows you. She knows you need them."

House tried to block her out. She circled the couch encouraging him to take the pills.

He finally heard the outer door close and keys jangling in the entryway. His breathing accelerated and he began to shake.

The door opened and he turned anguished eyes toward Cameron. Haltingly he told her what he planned. She sat beside him, holding his hand.

"I can't do this alone," he told her. "I need you."

Cameron nodded. "I'll do whatever you need," she assured him. "You can do this." She pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

"You need to get rid of my stash," he told her. His shaking increased and he began to sweat.

"Tell me," she whispered.

As she moved through the apartment, gathering up his pills, he began to feel the effects of the detox.

He heard the toilet flush several times before she returned to his side. He felt her arm slide across his shoulders; felt the coolness of her lips against his cheek.

"I got the ones in the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and living room. I'll get you some ginger ale. It will settle your stomach." She rose and started toward the kitchen.

"My shoes," he gasped. "In the hall closet."

He looked at her, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he cried.

She sat beside him again and took him in her arms. "I'm here," she crooned in his ear. "I'm going to help you."

"She's going to ruin everything," Amber told him. He could hear the disappointment in her voice. "You need those pills. You need me."

"Get them," he told Cameron. "Please." He was begging but he didn't care. He just wanted Amber gone and the pain to end.

He leaned over the toilet and dry heaved. Cameron knelt beside him, stroking his back.

"False alarm," he gasped. He sat back against the wall. Cameron wiped his forehead with a wet wash cloth.

"I'm going to get you some more ginger ale," she said, rising.

House reached out to grab her hand. "Thank you," he told her. "I don't deserve you."

Cameron dropped a kiss on his head and went to the kitchen to get his ginger ale.

Amber smiled at him from her perch on the side of the tub.

"You're good," she told him admiringly. "I knew you saw that pill. You know you want it. Get it. She'll never know."

House looked down the hallway and began to crawl toward the pill that lay near the sink.

"Of course," Amber continued. "If you take it, it means you think you don't deserve her; which we both know you don't. She's too good, too pure."

House reached out for the pill.

As his fingers stretched toward it, he heard glass shatter against the floor.

"No!" Cameron cried out. She lunged past him and grabbed up the pill. House grabbed her and pulled her down. She squirmed against him trying to break his hold on her wrist.

"No," she panted.

"Give me the pill," he growled. "I'm twice your size. I need that pill."

Cameron bucked against him. He pressed her against the tile floor and tightened his grip on her wrist. He tried to pry her fingers open with his other hand.

"I don't want to hurt you," she panted.

"Oh, please," Amber sneered. "What is she going to do?"

Cameron looked into House's eyes. Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. In the next moment, her knee connected with his right thigh. House screamed in agony and rolled to one side. She scrambled up and dropped the pill in the toilet, flushing it away. House lay on the floor, sobbing, holding his thigh.

Cameron was beside him again, holding him, rocking him in her arms. He was aware of her tears splashing against his face.

"I'm sorry," she repeated over and over. House clung to her and panted as the pain in his thigh dulled to a steady throb.

"Well," Amber said. "That was just mean. You should get rid of her."

"Thank you," he whispered against Cameron's throat.

Cameron pressed soft kisses against his eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead and chin. House grabbed her face and kissed her. His hands clawed at her scrub shirt, pulling it over her head. Her undershirt followed. He fumbled with the hook on her bra. When he couldn't unfasten it, he tore it from her. She jerked his shirt over his head and he groaned when her tongue rubbed against his nipple. He pulled her scrub pants down and off her. The delicate lace of her panties ripped as he wrenched them from her. He kicked his jeans away as she stripped them from him.

"I'm not going to stay around and watch this," Amber sighed. House ignored her as Cameron pulled his boxer shorts off. He was too busy covering every inch of Cameron's quivering skin with hot, wet kisses. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his stomach, sliding wetly against his skin. He reached up to stroke her breasts, feeling the nipples grow tauter beneath his palms. He watched as the muscles in her stomach contracted as his fingers moved over them. She threw her head back as he gently stroked his finger between her legs. He reached up and ran his fingers down the silky column of her throat.

"Oh, God, Greg," she groaned. Very gently he pushed her back. She lifted her hips and slid down on him. He closed his eyes and gripped her hips. He thrust up against her and felt himself slide into her completely. He lay still, feeling her envelope him with her wet heat. The she began to move and he groaned. She started out thrusting slowly against him. Then she increased her pace. House reached up and stroked his hand down between her breasts, over her stomach, coming to rest between her legs. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his stomach as her muscles contracted on him and she cried out as she climaxed. She leaned against the hand he placed between her breasts. Her eyes drifted closed and she relaxed as he began to thrust against her. Then he was jerking against her, crying out, gasping as pleasure thudded through him, erasing the pain.

He awoke the next morning and rolled over slowly, stretching. He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled. He looked over his shoulder. Cameron was not lying next to him. He got up carefully and wrapped himself in his robe. He slowly searched the apartment. No sign of Cameron. He walked into the bathroom and saw one of her hair bands on the sink. He picked it up, a smile of pure contentment spreading across his face. He lifted the coated rubber band to his face and inhaled he fragrance of her that clung to it. He carried the hair band in his pocket, taking it out occasionally to roll it between his fingers. He would twist it, toying with it, remembering the events of the night before.

At five that afternoon, he made his way down to the ER. He smiled when he saw Cameron. She glanced at him over her shoulder and continued working. The smile slowly faded from House's face. He limped slowly toward her. He didn't understand why she was angry; especially after last night.

"Come for another fix?" she asked coldly.

He frowned and looked at her in confusion. "What?' he asked.

She turned to face him, hands on her hips, anger radiating from her. "The Vicodin not doing it for you today?"

"Alison," he began.

She moved toward him and reached into his pocket. She withdrew her hand and he stared in shock at her hand. At the bottle of Vicodin she shook.

"You're running low," she commented. "I suppose you want a refill?" She tossed the bottle to him. He stood, shock etched on his face, as the bottle bounced against his chest before landing at his feet.

"No,' he whispered. "Last night…" His voice trailed off as it all came flooding back. He hadn't called Cameron. He hadn't asked her to help him detox. There had been no struggle for the pill on the floor. They hadn't made love on the bathroom floor. He hadn't been carrying her hair band all day. It had been his bottle of Vicodin. He'd hallucinated it all; all of it. All of it flashed through his mind like scenes from some horrible movie.

Suddenly, Amber's voice filled his head. "That's a nice story you made up for yourself," she told him cheerfully. "You want that to be who you are. You need that story to be true. You need that to be who you are. To her. For her."

House squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"No," he whispered. He opened his eyes and flinched. Kutner looked at him with a mix of sadness and pity.

"Too bad it can't be true for you," Kutner told him.

House felt Cameron's hand on his chest.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He closed his eyes again and then focused on her face.

"No," he whispered brokenly. "I'm not."

He told her everything.

She called Wilson, who met them at their apartment. He took one look at House's stricken face and moved silently into their bedroom. Cameron sat beside House on the couch, holding him, whispering comforting words in his ear. Wilson reappeared with a suitcase in his hand. Cameron looked at him and choked back a sob. She nodded and they helped House out to Wilson's car. Wilson drove while House leaned against Cameron in the backseat. No one spoke during the long drive to Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. Cameron held House and Wilson drove through the gentle rain. When Wilson pulled up in front of the massive hospital, Cameron couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She helped House pull his suitcase out of the trunk. She slipped his wallet, keys, watch and cell phone into her purse. Wilson stood behind her, a warm comforting presence. She wrapped her arms around House. Slowly she felt his arms encircle her, felt his mouth against her hair. She felt Wilson's hand on her shoulder. House's arms released her and he stepped back. Bending, he picked up his suitcase and began to slowly limp toward the entrance of Mayfield. He kept his eyes resolutely forward. He couldn't look back and see them driving away. He couldn't bear that. He heard footsteps running up behind him. He dropped the suitcase and caught Cameron in his arms.

"I love you," she whispered.

He nodded. "I love you, too," he told her.

He released her and picked up the suitcase again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear Cameron's ragged sobs. He could hear Wilson approach her, talking softly to her. He continued his journey to the next phase of his life. He limped up the stairs with the doctors and orderly flanking him. As he entered, he turned for one last look. Cameron and Wilson stood where he left them, holding hands, watching him. The pain and sorrow on Cameron's face caused him more pain than he thought he could bear. He turned and walked into the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yes, yes, I know. House might be circumcised. This is my little story and I want House uncut. So he is. ;) Of course, I don't own House or any of the characters. I just like to change canon to suit myself. Oh, and I wrote this before the Plaey thingy where they gave out spoilers for season 6 and Hugh debuted his hot, sexy new haircut.**

**Chapter 3: Homecoming**

September 21, 2009

Cameron sat staring sightlessly at the television. House had been at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital for over four months. She received regular updates from his doctor but had not seen him since she and Wilson left him back in May. She missed him so deeply it was like a physical ache. Nothing alleviated the pain.

A knock on the door shook her from her reverie. Slowly, she rose from the couch and walked to the door. She unlocked it and swung the portal open, expecting to see Wilson. He stopped by every day to check on her once she returned home from work. She stared in mute shock at Stacy, House's ex-girlfriend.

"Hi," Stacy said quietly. "I heard about Greg." She looked at Cameron with compassion shining in her dark eyes.

Cameron moved back to allow Stacy to enter. Closing the door, she took a deep breath and faced Stacey.

"Who told you?" Cameron asked.

"Wilson."

"Why are you here?"

Stacy looked at her and smiled sadly. "I thought we might go see him," she told Cameron.

"He's not seeing anyone," Cameron informed her shortly. She moved to sit down on the couch.

"Wilson says Greg loves you," Stacy commented quietly. "Do you love Greg?"

"Yes," Cameron whispered.

"Then go with me to see him," Stacy said.

"Why not go by yourself?" Cameron asked sharply.

"I thought he'd be more willing to see me if you're there, too."

Cameron rose from the couch and disappeared down the hallway. Stacy stood behind the couch, head bowed. Cameron returned with her purse and a jacket.

"You can drive," she told Stacy.

Mayfield looked different than it did the last time Cameron saw it. Last time, rain wept down from a leaden sky. Today, bright sunlight shone down from a clear blue sky. Cameron walked up the steps beside Stacy.

The lobby was bright and cheerful. They signed in and were given visitor passes. An orderly escorted them to House's doctor's office. Doctor Mitchell greeted them warmly and told them what to expect when they saw House.

"I didn't tell him you're here, Alison," Dr. Mitchell told her. "He talks about you all the time but he has been refusing visitors. James has been up several times, but Greg refuses to see him."

Cameron looked at the woman in surprise. Wilson had never mentioned that fact.

"Mrs. Warner," Dr. Mitchell smiled at Stacy. "I'll take Alison in first. Then you can see him."

Stacy nodded.

Cameron followed the doctor down a long corridor. Dr. Mitchell stopped in front of a door and looked at Cameron.

"Try not to let your shock show," she said quietly. "We haven't been able to get him to care for himself. We do what we can but he fights us."

Cameron swallowed and nodded. Dr. Mitchell unlocked the door and nodded at Cameron before walking away. Cameron drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She opened the door and entered the room. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure by the windows, his back to her. He wore his plaid robe belted over pale green pajama bottoms. His hair was unkempt and he was barefoot. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his back. She felt him flinch and then he turned to face her. She looked up at his haggard face; at the bushy beard; at the dawning recognition in his blue eyes. His breathing became ragged as he looked down at her and tears filled his eyes.

"No," he whispered. "No." He shook his head and turned back to the window. Leaning his head against the glass, he closed his eyes.

Cameron wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. She could feel the sobs wracking his body; could hear him whispering _no_ over and over. Then she was in his arms and he was burying his face in her neck. His hands tangled in her hair and she could feel his tears against her throat. She pulled back and took his face in her hands. Gently, she kissed him.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "You're not a delusion," he whispered.

"No," she assured him. "I'm not."

"I didn't want you to come," he told her, a hint of the old House surfacing. "Why are you here?"

"I miss you," she told him truthfully. She hesitated. She wasn't sure how he would react to the news that Stacy was waiting to see him. Finally, she decided it was best to be honest with him. She always was and he wouldn't appreciate any deception form her now. "Stacy brought me. She's waiting to see you."

House's brows drew together in the frown she recognized so well. "Why?" he asked.

"She didn't say," Cameron told him.

House shook his head and turned back to the window. "I don't want her to see me like this."

Cameron blinked hard to stop the tears that threatened to spill over. "You let me see you like this," she reminded him softly.

"You're different," he said, eyes still fixed on some distant point.

"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself. She waited miserably for him to answer. She braced herself, waiting for him to confess that he still loved Stacy.

"You love me," he replied.

Cameron frowned. "Stacy loves you," she told him.

"Not the way you do," he told her, finally turning his startling blue eyes to look at her. She was always amazed at the intensity of those eyes. "No one has ever loved me the way you do." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "And that was an incredibly idiotic way for me to phrase it."

"I like the way you phrased it," she told him, smiling. The tears she'd tried to stop spilled over and coursed down her cheeks. He reached up and rubbed them away with his thumb, cupping her face.

"You would," he smiled. He looked down and then up at her again. "Will you help me?"

"Of course," she told him.

He pushed away from the window and walked across the room to a table where a phone sat. Cameron noticed he didn't use a cane and walked with only a slight limp. She knew the doctors were slowly weaning him off the Vicodin and had replaced it with Methadone until he was completely free of the narcotic causing his delusions. Then they would start him on a different pain regimen. He picked up the receiver and spoke quietly. He hung up the phone and moved to sit on the bed. Cameron came to sit beside him. He took her hand and gripped it.

"How did she find out I'm in here?" he asked.

Cameron looked at him. House laughed shortly. "Wilson," he sighed. She nodded.

The door to his room swung open and an orderly entered. He smiled broadly when he saw Cameron.

House rose and took the bundle the young man carried. "Quit smiling at her," House grumbled. "You're too young and undamaged for her."

Cameron smiled and rose, holding out her hand. "I'm Alison Cameron," she said.

"I know," the young orderly responded. "Greg talks about you all the time. I'm Ben."

House shifted uncomfortably and frowned at Ben. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he growled. "Get out."

Ben smiled at Cameron and left. She turned to House, a knowing smile on her face.

He frowned at her but she could see the love in his eyes. "Quit looking at me like that," he sighed.

He turned and headed into the bathroom. Cameron followed him. She leaned against the counter and watched him remove the robe and drop it on the floor. She bent down and picked it up, folding it neatly and placing it on the counter beside her. As he undressed, she folded his clothes and added them to the pile. He gripped the sink and leaned forward. She moved behind him and turned on the taps, running water into the tub. She adjusted the temperature and looked around for soap and towels. She found them and laid them out, unwrapping the soap as she waited for the tub to fill. A further search turned up shampoo and she added that to her pile. Finally, the tub was filled with hot water and she took House's hand, guiding him toward the tub.

"I don't know why this is so hard," he told her, tears streaming down his face.

She remained silent, helping him into the tub and settling him in the water.

"I'm pathetic," he told her.

She picked up a wash cloth and the soap. "No, you're sick," she corrected him.

"Same thing."

Dipping the cloth into the water, she wet it and rubbed soap across it. She lifted House's arm and began to bathe him. He sat quietly, letting her wash him, moving when she pulled or pushed gently against him. Neither spoke, but House's eyes never left her. She was used to that intense stare. As she rubbed shampoo into his hair, she wondered if he was still seeing Amber and Kutner.

"I'm still seeing them, if that's what you're wondering," he told her, breaking the silence.

She looked at him in surprise. Reaching up, she pulled the hand held shower head down and turned the water on again. She rinsed the shampoo from his hair and turned the water off. She sat holding the shower head. Finally she looked at him.

"You probably will until the Vicodin is completely out of your system," she responded quietly.

"Unless it's not the Vicodin."

She nodded and replaced the shower head. She held out her hands to him and pulled him from the tub.

As she dried him, he watched her intently. "Are you going to stay with me if turns out I'm crazy?"

"Yes," she told him honestly. She held out his boxer shorts and pulled them up to his waist when he stepped into them.

"Why?"

The question didn't surprise her. She held out his jeans. He folded his arms and stood, waiting for her answer. Cameron sighed.

"I love you," she told him.

"Why?"

"Why are you asking me this?" she countered.

"Why aren't you answering?" he asked.

"I did," she told him, holding out his jeans again. He unfolded his arms and braced his hands on her shoulders as he stepped into the jeans. She zipped them up and fastened the button. House laughed quietly as her knuckles brushed against his stomach. She looked up at him questioningly.

"You usually do this in reverse," he told her. She laughed and pushed him down onto the closed lid of the toilet.

She looked at him. "Do you want me to trim your beard or shave it off?"

"Shave it off," he told her softly.

She lifted the comb and ran it through his hair before picking up the scissors. Draping a towel over his lap, she tilted his head back and began to snip away at the beard, trimming away as much hair as she could. Once she'd removed all she could with the scissors, she wet a wash cloth with hot water and laid it gently over his face. He closed his eyes as she pressed the cloth against his face. She removed the cloth and leaned down to kiss him gently before picking up the can of shaving foam. She sighed softly as House reached out to slide his hand beneath her shirt and stroke her skin. She squirted foam into her hand and rubbed it over his cheeks and jaw. She picked up the razor and began to shave him. Her breath quickened when his hand closed over her breast.

"I miss touching you," he told her. He closed his eyes and grimaced.

"What are they saying to you?" she asked quietly, stroking the razor over his skin.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "It doesn't matter," he replied. "They aren't real."

She nodded and finished shaving him. She wiped the remaining foam from his face and smiled at him.

"All done," she told him. Turning, she picked up his t-shirt and slipped it over his head. She knelt at his feet and pulled his socks and shoes on. She felt his hand on her hair as she tied the laces. She stood and looked at him. Reaching out, she smoothed her fingers over his cheek. He pulled her between his legs and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and sliding his hands beneath her shirt. She leaned against him and returned the kiss, thrusting her tongue against his and sucking his tongue into her mouth. He pushed her shirt up and released the hook on her bra. She moaned when his mouth closed over her breast, the feel of his tongue sliding over her nipple making her shiver.

"Stacy's waiting," she panted.

"Let her wait." He pushed her onto the floor and unzipped her jeans, pushing them down her legs and pulling them from her. "I need you now."

She kissed him with a fervency that surprised her. Her hands fumbled with the button on his jeans. Her desire for him made her hands shake. His mouth moved over her stomach before closing over her breast again. She feed him from his jeans and thrust up against him. She wanted to feel him filling her, thrusting against her. When he slid inside her, she whimpered and tears slid down her cheeks. This was what she missed, this closeness, this intimacy, this mutual pleasure. She felt the tightening in the pit of her stomach, the tension spiraling through her. She squirmed beneath him and thrust more forcefully against him. Then she was jerking against him, crying out, clawing at him as pleasure pounded through her. She looked up at him as she relaxed beneath him. She saw his eyes squeeze shut and then watched as his face melted into the familiar look of bliss as he climaxed. She felt his heat flooding her and bit her lip. They hadn't used a condom and she knew she was ovulating. Should she tell him? He collapsed against her, panting.

"Greg?' she questioned quietly.

"Mmmm?" he murmured against her shoulder.

"We didn't use a condom," she began. "And I'm ovulating."

He was silent for so long that she began to worry. "Did you hear me?"

He nodded against her shoulder. She felt him swallow. "It'll be an interesting story to tell the kid when he gets older," he commented.

Cameron drew in a shaky breath. "So, you'll be okay if I end up pregnant?"

He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. "It was my idea for you to stop your birth control," he reminded her. "So, yeah, I'm okay with you having my kid."

She reached up to stroke his chest. "I thought you didn't want kids."

"I didn't," he admitted. "It's different now, with you." He pushed himself up and sat back against the tub. He tucked himself back into his jeans and buttoned them, sliding the zipper up. "Besides, you may not be pregnant."

She sat up slowly and picked up her jeans and panties. She didn't even remember him pulling them from her. She stood and dressed. She pushed her feet into her loafers. She didn't remember removing them either. He had that effect on her. She would get so focused on him and everything else would fade away. She sat down next to him.

"You're right," she told him. "I might not be." She sat for a moment and then took his hand in hers. "Stacy's waiting."

"I know." He made no move to get up.

"Greg," Cameron said.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"House," she said more forcefully.

He smiled and turned to look at her. "You haven't called me that in a long time," he remarked.

She released his hand and pushed herself up. "Come one," she told him.

He slowly pushed himself up and looked at her. "Stay with me," he said.

She nodded.

Stacy rose when House and Cameron entered the waiting room. She had been expecting House to be haggard, unkempt, emotionally shut down. Instead he was clean shaven, wearing jeans and a t-shirt neatly tucked in. His hair was combed and he looked relaxed. In fact, she recognized that particular relaxed look. Now she understood why it had taken so long for him to appear. Stacy noticed they weren't touching, but she could sense the bond between them.

"Hello, Greg," she said quietly.

"Stacy."

"How are you?" she asked.

"Delusional. How about you?"

Stacy shook her head. Even here he was the same Greg House; sarcastic, deprecating, slightly defensive.

"Why are you here, Stacy?" he asked, moving to sit on a couch. He looked at Cameron who came to sit beside him. Stacy noticed the unspoken communication between them. She felt a twinge of envy.

Stacy sat on the couch across from them. She noticed they sat side by side, legs and arms touching. Cameron sat with her hands folded in her lap. House looked at Stacy and slowly put his hand on Cameron's thigh near her hip. Stacy watched as his fingers slid down between Cameron's legs. Stacy looked at him with amusement shining in her eyes. She nodded slightly. He relaxed but didn't remove his hand. Stacy got the message loud and clear. He chose Cameron. Cameron looked from one to the other and frowned slightly. Stacy noticed she didn't make House move his hand. In fact, Cameron merely shifted to give House better access. Stacy found that interesting, too.

"I hear you and Wilson have been gossiping about me," he commented drily. He looked at her with that sly, insinuating expression she knew so well.

"I talked to Wilson," she corrected him. "He told me what happened."

"Did he tell you I killed his girlfriend?"

Stacy sighed. He was on the defensive. She always hated dealing with him when he got like this.

"Greg," Cameron said softly, placing her hand on his leg. Stacey watched in wonder as he relaxed and his expression changed. His eyes softened and his mouth quirked up in a smile she'd never seen before.

Stacey tried a different tact. "I was sorry to hear about your father."

He looked at Cameron who looked back at him. Again, Stacy saw the unspoken communication flowing between them.

He nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Are you in pain?' she asked.

Again, he looked at Cameron. "Some," he answered honestly. "They're weaning me off the Vicodin and giving me controlled doses of methadone to help with the pain."

"Wilson said you're hallucinating."

Stacy noticed Cameron's hand moved against his thigh, rubbing slightly; comforting him.

He nodded. "I see his girlfriend; the one who died. I also see one of my fellows."

"The one who committed suicide?"

He nodded and Stacy saw the pain in his eyes.

"And you think the Vicodin is causing this?" she asked.

"I hope to God the Vicodin is causing this," he replied.

Stacy suddenly understood. If it wasn't the Vicodin, then he'd experienced a psychotic break and would lose his medical license. She fervently hoped it was the Vicodin. She watched as Cameron closed her eyes and looked away. House reached up and stroked her hair, running his fingers along her cheek and jaw. Stacy felt a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. House was lost to her. It was obvious he loved Cameron in a way he'd never loved her. She stood up and swung her purse over her shoulder.

"I'm glad to see you're being so well cared for, Greg," she told him. She looked at Cameron. "I'll wait for you at the car. Take your time."

House shook his head. "I'll call Wilson. He can come pick her up."

"I don't mind waiting," she told him.

"No," house responded. "I should see Wilson. This gives me a good excuse."

"You're going to tell him I abandoned Cameron, aren't you?" she laughed.

"No," he assured her. "He'd never believe it." He pushed himself up and looked at his former lover. She moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. She smiled sadly and walked away.

Cameron stood and slipped an arm around House's waist.

"She never said why she came," House commented.

"She's worried about you," Cameron told him.

"Let's go call Wilson," House told her.

Wilson assured House he would come pick Cameron up. He told House it would be a few hours before he could get there. House looked at Cameron and smirked. He told Wilson that it would not be a problem.

Cameron sat at the desk in the corner, looking at the pile of medical journals and books. She flipped through the pages of notes House had scribbled down.

"You've been doing research on psychosis," she commented.

"Didn't I tell you not to read so much?' he asked, coming to stand behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged her muscles.

"You said 'Read less, more TV'," she replied with a smile. "You don't have a TV."

"Well, let me amend that then," he said. "Read less, more sex." He pulled her to her feet and led her to the bed.

"If it's not the Vicodin," she began. He silenced her with a kiss.

"No talking unless it's to scream my name or beg me for more," he told her.

"We need to talk about this," she told him.

"No," he responded in frustration. "You need to talk about this. I need to hold you and touch you and see you naked."

Cameron bit her lip and closed her eyes. She pulled her shirt over her head and removed her bra. She slipped out of her loafers and pulled her jeans off. She sat down on the narrow bed and looked up at House.

"Panties?" he questioned.

"You should do some of the work," she told him.

He laughed and quickly removed his own clothes. He pushed her back onto the bed and covered her body with his.

"I've missed you," he breathed. "I've missed this." His mouth grazed her throat and she tilted her head back to give him better access. She closed her eyes as his mouth and tongue moved along her neck. He rolled to one side and pulled her onto her side so that she faced him. His hands skimmed her body, touching, stroking. Her hands moved over the muscles in his arms, chest and back. She kissed his throat, licked his nipples and nibbled at his stomach. He slid his leg between hers and she groaned as his penis nudged against her. She moved her leg and tilted her hips so that he slid into her. She thrust against him, holding onto his hips and guiding his movements. He gripped her arms and closed his eyes. She thrust against him, pushing him in until their bodies touched. She wrapped her leg more firmly around him. She moved with tiny thrusts, just enough to slide his foreskin back and forth slightly.

"Jesus," he gasped. He tried to thrust against her, but she held him still.

"Relax," she breathed. "Let me do this." She kissed him and pulled his tongue into her mouth, sucking lightly on it. He groaned and slipped his arms around her, pulling her firmly against his chest. She resumed her slight thrusts, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she did. Her hands skimmed over his back and buttocks. She kissed him slowly and deeply. He began to shake. She could feel his fingers digging into her back.

"I can't," he gasped. "I can't. I'm sorry." He convulsed in her arms as he climaxed. She held him and smiled. He lay panting in her arms. She sucked the sweat from his neck. He started to roll away from her but she held him against her body.

"Not yet," she whispered. She began to thrust against him again, slowly, just enough to move his foreskin.

He shook his head and looked at her. "I'm too old,' he told her quietly. "I've taken too much Vicodin. It's not going to happen."

She smiled and continued to thrust gently. "Shut up," she laughed. "Just relax and let me do this. You have to trust me."

He looked at her and stroked her face. "I do trust you," he replied honestly.

"Then relax."

He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"Just let go," she whispered.

He nodded and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the feel of her muscles sliding against his penis. The feel of her sweat slicked skin rubbing against his; her hands moving over him, rubbing, stroking, touching. Her soft breasts rubbing against his chest, her hardened nipples pressing against him like sharp little pebbles. Her mouth pressed against his and he parted his lips. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of her. He felt himself growing hard again and his eyes flew open. He pulled away from her slightly.

She smiled. "Told you so."

He nodded. "Your turn," he whispered, slipping his hand between them to rub her gently. Her breath caught in her throat. He pressed against her as she continued to thrust. His finger pressed more firmly with each gentle thrust and she began to gasp. Her hands flexed against his back. Tiny whimpering moans escaped her. He slid his other hand between them and rubbed her breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her intently. He felt her stomach muscles clench, saw her eyes squeeze shut and then she jerked and twisted against him, crying out. He rolled her onto her back and grabbed her hands, thrusting them above her head. He thrust into her and groaned as she climaxed again. Then he let himself go, shuddering against her as he climaxed.

When Wilson arrived, House was sleeping on the narrow bed, dressed in clean pajamas. Cameron had helped him bathe again and dressed him in the pajamas. She sat at his desk reading over his notes.

"Hey," Wilson greeted her quietly.

"Hi," she responded, looking up at with a smile.

Wilson nodded toward House. "He looks good."

Cameron laughed quietly. "You should have seen him when I got here."

"Not good, huh?" he asked.

"He's looked better," she said. "He did let me clean him up. That's a good sign, right?'

Wilson nodded and looked over her shoulder at House's notes. "He's preparing for the worst case scenario."

Cameron nodded.

Wilson removed his jacket and looked down at her. "What are you going to do if the Vicodin isn't the cause of his psychosis?"

"I'm not leaving him, if that's what you're asking," she told him.

"Good," Wilson replied. "He'll never recover if you do."

"And you think I would?"

He looked at her in surprise. "I guess I never thought about it. You always seem so strong."

"I love him. I'm not going to leave him because he got sick."

Wilson put his hand on her shoulder. "Cameron," he began.

"What time is it?" House questioned sleepily.

They turned to look at him. He rubbed his hand over his face and stretched. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat up and looked at them.

"Are you still hallucinating?" Wilson asked.

"That's right," House mocked him. "Skip over the banal trivialities and get right to the good stuff."

"Are you?" Wilson asked, ignoring the jibe.

House rubbed his forehead and looked away. "Yes."

"How many Vicodin are you taking a day?"

"I'm down to two."

"How frequent are the hallucinations?"

House closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why are we talking about this? I talk about this all day with the doctors here. They're morons, by the way."

"Frequency, House?" Wilson persisted.

"They're about the same."

"Well," Wilson sighed. "You've been taking it for years. It's going to take time to get it cleared out of your system."

"Or," House responded. "It's not the Vicodin and I'm just crazy."

"You've had a head injury and deep brain stimulation. You've been abusing Vicodin for years."

"You lost Amber, your dad and Kutner," Cameron added quietly.

"That wouldn't cause psychosis," House countered.

"No, but it would cause depression. The depression combined with the Vicodin abuse could cause psychosis."

"This is not a diagnostic session!" House exploded. "This is my life! My career!"

"Alright," Wilson replied. "Calm down."

House leaned over and rubbed his face. "You and Alison should leave," he said softly.

Cameron rose and moved to stand beside him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'll come by this weekend," she told him.

"Leave Wilson at home," he replied. "He's a real buzz kill."

She leaned down and kissed him. Then she retrieved her purse and jacket and joined Wilson at the door.

"I'll come by next week," Wilson told him.

"Bring beer and Chinese food," House told him. "The food in here is terrible."

Wilson laughed and opened the door. Cameron paused and looked back at him. "Do you want me to bring anything?"

House shook his head. "Just come," he replied.

"I will," she promised.

Eight weeks later, House was released. Once the Vicodin cleared his system, the hallucinations decreased and finally stopped. Wilson picked him and brought him home. Cameron had to work and would see him when she got home. House asked Wilson to come as early as possible to spring him. Wilson arrived at seven a.m. to find House waiting for him on the front steps, suitcase at his side. Wilson barely came to a stop when House limped toward the car. He opened the door and flung his suitcase into the back seat. Once he was in the car, he turned to Wilson.

"Floor it," he smirked.

Wilson laughed and pulled away from the hospital. They arrived at House and Cameron's apartment and Wilson dropped House at the curb. House thanked him quietly before getting out. He stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building. He drew in a deep breath and walked inside. He opened the door to their apartment and was greeted with the sound of someone vomiting. He dropped his suitcase on the floor and made his way to the bathroom. He found Cameron hunched over the toilet.

"Hey," he said, kneeling beside her. "Are you sick?"

She sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth with a wash cloth. She laughed and pointed to the sink. House saw a white stick balancing on the edge of the sink. Slowly he rose and picked it up. The word _pregnant_ jumped out at him. The stick clattered on the bathroom floor as he turned to look at her. She looked up at him with wide eyes. He knelt in front of her.

"You're pregnant?" he asked.

"I haven't had the blood test, but, yeah, I think I must be."

House sat back and looked at nothing in particular. Cameron reached out and touched his arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"What if I suck as a father?" he questioned.

"You're not going to suck as a father,' she assured him.

"Mine did," he told her quietly.

"You're not going to suck as a father," she repeated.

"When?" he asked.

"Probably sometime in June," she replied with a smile.

House unpacked while Cameron showered. She didn't have to be in until eleven and they decided to go in early so House could do an ultrasound and draw blood for a pregnancy test.

He limped into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He looked at the new drugs he'd been given to replace the Vicodin. He sighed and put the Cymbalta and Ultram in the cabinet. He then slowly made his way to the hall closet and took out a cane. The doctors had suggested he might need it again once the Methadone was out of his system. Leaning heavily on the cane, he made his way back to the bedroom. Cameron stood in front of the armoire wrapped in a towel. She pulled clothes out and turned to face him. He saw her eyes flick to the cane and back away again. He looked down at the floor.

"No more Methadone," he told her quietly.

She nodded and dressed. As she sat on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on, he left the room and waited for her by the front door.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she shrugged into her jacket.

He nodded and opened the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. He looked out at the outer door. "I want a Vicodin," he told her quietly.

She stroked his arm. "I know," she responded.

"Ultrasound," he said, smiling slightly.

"Ultrasound," she nodded, smiling.

House turned the monitor so that Cameron could see the image on it. He lightly traced his fingers over it and then dropped his hand. He looked away for a moment. Cameron sat up and touched his shoulder.

He thrust a handful of tissues at her.

"Clean yourself up," he told her. He left the exam room.

Cameron sighed and wiped the gel from her stomach.

Wilson looked up as House entered his office. He waited for House to speak but the other man simply lay down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Wilson sighed and returned his attention to his paperwork. House banged his cane on the wall. Wilson glanced up at him but continued to work. He'd learned long ago that House would speak only when he was ready. No amount of prompting or cajoling would get him to talk if he wasn't ready. So Wilson continued to work on his charts and wait. House sat up and moved to sit in one of the chairs facing Wilson's desk. Wilson pulled another file from the stack and ignored his best friend. House reached out and picked up a figurine from Wilson's desk. He rolled it around in his hand and then replaced it on the desk. He reached out and flipped the pages of the file Wilson was working on. Wilson smacked his hand and continued to write. House leaned back and sighed loudly.

"Cameron is pregnant."

Wilson jerked his head up and stared at House in open mouthed shock.

"Eight weeks."

Wilson opened and closed his mouth but no words issued forth.

"Say something."

"Congratulations?" Wilson finally said. His eyes widened. "That means…"

House looked down at his hands folded on the head of his cane and nodded.

Wilson leaned forward. "They let you, you know, while you were there?" he asked.

House rolled his eyes. "I was alone with her for nearly two hours that first day. She bathed me, Wilson."

"And now she's pregnant and you're freaking out."

"I can't be a father."

Wilson narrowed his eyes and looked at House. "Why not?"

House looked at his hands and refused to answer. Wilson leaned forward. "This is a good thing, House. The woman you love is going to have a baby; your baby. Be happy for once in your miserable life."

House pushed himself up and left quietly. Wilson leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed and returned his attention to his patient charts.

House pushed open the door to Cuddy's office. He stopped in the middle of the floor and scowled at her.

She looked up at him and leaned back in her chair, waiting.

"Need a case," he told her.

"Fresh out," she replied. "Go home. Take a few days. I'm sure someone will turn up with an exotic disease by then."

House tapped his cane against the floor and looked at a point just above her head.

"Cameron is pregnant."

Cuddy looked at him in stunned delight. "That's wonderful, House," she finally said. "How far along is she?"

"Find me a case," he told her before turning to leave.

Cameron stood outside the door to House's office. The blinds were drawn and he sat in the dark, brooding, tossing his ball back and forth between his hands. She pushed the door open and strode to his desk. She sat on the edge beside him and grabbed the ball.

"Do you want me to terminate?' she asked, anger sharpening her voice.

"Do you want to terminate?' he asked quietly.

She threw the ball against the window. "No! But this is supposed to be a happy time for us and you're here in your damn office, in the dark, hiding!"

"Then why ask me?" he responded quietly. He rose and retrieved his ball. He stood in front of her, gripping the red and white sphere.

"Do you want this baby?" she asked more quietly this time.

He stared at the ball. She could see him in the dim light filtering in from the hall. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked haggard.

"I can't be a father," he told her.

She felt anger rising and shoved herself off his desk. She stood in front of him and glared at him.

"Too bad," she told him. "Because you're going to be." Spinning on her heel, she stalked out of the room.

For the next few weeks they existed in an icy silence. Cameron's morning sickness subsided and House noticed her stomach beginning to round as the fetus (he refused to call it anything else) grew inside her.

He returned home one night in December to find her perched on a chair, decorating a Christmas tree. He dropped his backpack and cane. Lunging forward, he grabbed her and swung her to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, angrily.

"Playing tennis," she responded sarcastically. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Trying to kill yourself," he snapped.

She pushed his hands away. It was the first time he'd touched her since the argument in his office. She looked at him and tried to curb the rising tide of desire she felt. It angered her that a simple touch could start her heart racing.

He looked at her for several long minutes. She stared back defiantly. Then somehow she was in his arms and his mouth was moving over hers and his hands were everywhere at once. She landed on the couch with his weight pressing her into the cushions. She tore at his clothes, pushing them off. His hands shook slightly as he stripped her clothes from her. Then he was inside her and she was arching against him, straining to pull him deeper into her. She'd been waiting weeks for this and now she couldn't hold back. She screamed as an orgasm tore through her. The she felt him shudder and moan her name. She gripped him and waited for her breathing and heart rate to return to normal.

He muttered something against her neck.

"What?" she asked softly, stroking his hair.

"I don't want to fight with you," he whispered.

She sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

"Then don't talk about terminating and stop referring to our baby as 'the fetus'," she told him.

"You started the terminating talk," he reminded her. "And it is a fetus."

She cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. "No, he or she is our child," she told him.

"Our child is technically a fetus,' he responded with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She laughed and kissed him gently. "You always have to be right, don't you?"

"Because I always am," he told her with a smirk.

The ice thawed and they resumed their relationship, slipping into a comfortable routine.

On a particularly cold day in March, House awoke to feel something poking him in the back. He rolled over and looked at Cameron. She lay on her side, sleeping. Her protruding belly had been pressing against his back. He watched in fascination as her nightgown fluttered slightly. He lifted the hem to reveal her bare belly. Something pressed against her stomach forcing the skin to bow upward. House pressed his hand against her skin. He felt a sharp poke. Cameron stirred and opened her eyes. She looked at him sleepily.

"The baby's kicking," he whispered, rubbing his hand against her.

She smiled. "I feel her."

House looked at her in surprise. "Her?" he asked.

She nodded. "You conveniently missed the last sonogram, remember?"

He looked down at his hand, feeling the baby, his daughter, push against him.

"We're going to have a daughter?"

She nodded and yawned. "Yes."

House lay back and draped an arm over his eyes. "What are you going to name her?" he mumbled.

"What do you want to name her?" Cameron asked softly. He felt her hand come to rest on his chest.

He remained silent for so long that Cameron lifted his arm away and leaned over him.

"I like the name Abigail," she told him.

"Is her last name going to be House or Cameron?" he asked her.

"House, of course," she told him.

"Then Abigail is out," he told her. "Abigail House sounds like a hotel or dormitory."

Cameron laughed. "Then what do you want to name her?"

"I'm not good at things like this," he told her quietly.

Cameron leaned on his chest and looked into his eyes. "She's your daughter," she said. "You should help name her."

He reached out and traced a line from her cheek to her collarbone. "How about Rebecca?"

Cameron was silent for a few moments. He could see her considering the name. "What about a middle name?" she asked.

"Cameron," he replied softly.

"Rebecca Cameron House," she smiled. "I like it." She leaned down and kissed him.

House tapped the marker against his chin, considering the array of symptoms on the board. Behind him, his team tossed out possible diagnoses. He listened and continued to silently review the symptoms. The sound of his beeper going off startled him. He pulled it free from the waistband of his jeans and looked at the display. Tossing the marker onto the table, he grabbed his cane and bolted for the door.

"House!" Foreman called out. "Where are you going?"

"Maternity," House called over his shoulder.

Cuddy met him outside Cameron's room. "Her water broke about fifteen minutes ago," she told him. "She's refusing an epidural."

House nodded and entered the room. "Take the damn epidural," he said as he entered.

Cameron looked at him in exasperation. "I can do this without drugs," she told him.

"Drugs are our friend," he told her, pulling a stool over to her bed and sitting down. "You should learn to embrace them."

She started to answer but stopped as a contraction began. She panted as the pain surged through her.

"Take the damn epidural," he repeated, grasping her hand. "I'm in pain just looking at you."

"No," she gasped.

"You are so damn stubborn," he remarked.

She laughed and stopped as another contraction gripped her. House stood and limped to the end of the bed. Lifting the sheet, he pushed her knees up. Cameron sighed as his head disappeared beneath the sheet. She felt his fingers probing her.

"House!" she yelped as he measured her cervix. His head popped up and he grinned at her.

"Nearly ten centimeters," he told her.

"You are not delivering this baby," she told him firmly.

He flipped the sheet back down. "I might have to if your OB-GYN doesn't get her ass down here soon."

Cameron shook her head. "Doctor Stephens will be here in plenty of time."

The door opened and Doctor Stephens entered, pulling on gloves. She examined Cameron and then smiled at her.

"Do you think you can push?" she asked Cameron.

Cameron nodded. Stephens looked at House. "Get behind her and support her back," she told him.

House helped Cameron sit up and supported her as she grabbed her knees.

Stephens moved to the end of the bed as a nurse positioned herself on Cameron's other side.

"Ready?" the nurse asked Cameron. Cameron nodded and began to push. The nurse counted as Cameron bore down. House watched her strain to deliver his child. Time seemed to slow for him. He watched as Cameron repeatedly pushed; watched her grow more tired with each effort. She didn't scream or cry out, merely grunted occasionally. Finally, after what seemed like days, House heard Stephens tell Cameron to give one final push. Then a squirming, red faced baby was being put on Cameron's stomach and cold metal was being pushed into his hands. He stared down at the baby; at their daughter.

"House," Stephens said. "Cut the cord."

House shook his head and cut the grey cord that connected Rebecca to her mother. He looked into Cameron's eyes and then down at his daughter. He swallowed and felt tears sting his eyes. Then the nurse was taking the baby.

"Wait," he called out. He took Rebecca from the nurse. "I'll do it." He carried her to the table and laid her gently on it. He cleaned her up, weighed her, measured her, applied ointment to her eyes and wrapped her tightly in her blanket. He carefully picked her up and returned her to Cameron.

"Hi," Cameron cried when House placed Rebecca in her arms. She looked up at House. "She looks like you."

House leaned down and peered at her. "Maybe she'll grow out of it," he remarked. He looked up at Cameron.

"Marry me?" he asked.

Cameron looked at him for several long moments. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I want to marry you," he told her.

She smiled and nodded. "Then the answer is yes," she told him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: A Happy Ending**

Wilson bounced on his heels and checked his watch again. He smiled nervously at the assembled guests. He avoided Cuddy's glare from the back row. The string quartet continued to play the same three songs over and over. Finally, he couldn't avoid Cuddy any longer. She came to stand in front of him.

"Where is he?" she hissed.

"I don't know," Wilson whispered back frantically. "I've tried calling him but he isn't answering."

"It's his wedding day!" she shouted and then looked around with a falsely bright smile. "Go find him. Now!" she ground out between clenched teeth.

Wilson nodded and walked down the aisle as quickly as possible, head bent, eyes focused on the floor. As he passed through the doors of the hotel ballroom, he saw Cameron sitting on a bench with Foreman at her side. Foreman held Rebecca and looked up when Wilson approached them.

"Where the hell is he?" Foreman asked in disgust. "I knew he'd do something like this."

"Foreman," Cameron said, quietly. She looked up at Wilson and smiled slightly. "Going to find him?"

Wilson nodded.

Cameron sighed and stood, shaking out the full skirt of her wedding gown. She held out her hands to Foreman. Cradling Rebecca, she took a deep breath and entered the ballroom to face the assembled guests.

"Find him," Foreman spat, moving to follow Cameron.

Wilson started with the hotel bar. When he didn't find House, he began to search each bar between House and Cameron's apartment and the hotel. He finally found him at a tiny place called Mickey's next door to the hotel. Wilson sat on the barstool next to House and looked at him. House lifted his glass and looked at Wilson.

"To weddings," House slurred, draining the contents of the glass in one swallow.

"How many of those have you had?" Wilson asked, trying to curb the rising tide of anger that threatened to overwhelm him. House shrugged and banged the glass on the bar. The bartender moved to fill the glass again then moved away.

"House," Wilson spat. "It's your wedding day. There's a hotel ballroom filled with people waiting for you. Your fiancé and daughter are waiting for you."

"Rebecca looks like me, you noticed that?" House asked. "She should look like Cameron. But she looks like me. Why you think that is?"

Wilson sighed. He knew the only way to get answers from House when he was this drunk was to let the other man give them in his own way, in his own time.

"She looks like you because she's your daughter," Wilson replied.

"Alison wants a house," House said quietly. "She says there isn't enough room for Rebecca at the apartment. I change her diaper and feed her, did I tell you that? I do. She trusts me. She shouldn't. I'm gonna screw her up. I screw up everything. I don't know how to be happy. I look at her and I know I'm gonna screw her up." He drained his glass again and banged it on the counter.

Wilson pulled out his phone and made a phone call before turning his attention back to House.

"You're not going to screw up Rebecca," Wilson sighed, putting his phone back in his suit pocket. "Cameron won't let you."

"Cameron likes damaged, screwed up people," House told him. "That's why she's with me. I'm the most damaged, screwed up guy she could find."

"Cameron is with you because she loves you. She always has."

"She shouldn't," House responded blearily. "Rebecca trusts me and she shouldn't. I can see it when I hold her. I'm the only one who can make her stop crying. How messed up is that?"

"It's because you make funny faces at her," Wilson told him.

House laughed humorlessly. "The miserable, crippled, drug addict who makes funny faces. She'll be so proud."

"No," a soft voice behind him said. "Her father who loves her."

House closed his eyes and grimaced. "I'm hearing voices again," he told Wilson. Slowly he swung around on his bar stool. His breath left him in a rush at the sight of Cameron.

"Everyone is waiting," she told him.

Wilson looked at her in surprise. He assumed she'd sent the guests home.

She moved forward and grabbed House's cane and then pulled him from the bar stool. She pushed the ornate cane into his hand, straightened his suit jacket and tightened his tie.

"Let's go," she told him, a determined glint in her eyes.

House swayed on his feet. Wilson jumped up and steadied him.

"I left you at the altar," House told her.

Cameron folded her arms. "We're getting married."

"You should run," House told her.

"We're getting married."

"I'll make you miserable."

"Probably. We're getting married, though."

"I'll screw Rebecca up," he told her.

"I won't let you," she responded. "We're getting married, so let's go."

"She's very bossy," he told Wilson. "You ever noticed that?"

Wilson nodded. "I've noticed," he said as he steered House out of the bar.

They returned to the hotel and the ceremony proceeded. House scowled at Cameron as he repeated his vows. Cameron smiled at him as she repeated hers. His hands shook as he slid the ring on her finger. Hers were sure and steady as she slid the ring on his. As the judge pronounced them husband and wife, House's scowl deepened. He leaned down and whispered in Cameron's ear, "You'll regret this."

House sat on the front steps of a large Craftsman style house and looked down at Rebecca sitting quietly in her carrier. Bright blue eyes exactly like his looked back at him. He sighed and looked out over the quiet neighborhood.

"Your mommy loves this house," he told his daughter. "Which means we'll end up buying it." He tapped his cane against the cobbled walkway. Rebecca sucked on her fist and regarded him silently.

"I should have let her walk away. I should have let her leave and maybe she'd be married to Chase or some other guy. Instead she's stuck with me." He looked down at Rebecca. "And now you're stuck with me, too." Rebecca pulled her fist from her mouth and gurgled happily. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you know?" he laughed, leaning his cane against the steps. He leaned down and picked her up. Balancing her on his knees, he looked at her and scowled. Pushing her toes against his knees, she reached out and touched his cheek, still gurgling happily. He shook his head and settled her in his lap.

He looked over his shoulder when the door opened. Cameron and the realtor stepped out onto the front porch and talked quietly for several minutes. Finally, the realtor walked past House, got into her car and drove away. Cameron sat beside House on the front steps. She picked up his cane and held it, running her fingers up and down the smooth wood.

"Did you make an offer?" House asked.

"Do you plan to go inside?" Cameron countered.

"Don't need to," he told her. "I've seen a house before."

"There's room in the living room for your piano," she told him. "We can put it in front of the windows. There are plenty of bookshelves for all our books. There are three bathrooms. Our bedroom has two closets. Rebecca's room looks out over the back yard. The back yard is fenced and has room for a swing set."

"The American dream," House said, sardonically.

"Our dream," she corrected.

"Your dream," he told her and grimaced.

Cameron stood up and looked down at him. "Fine, my dream," she replied with an edge of anger in her voice. "We're buying it."

House looked down at his daughter and raised an eyebrow. "Told you so," he whispered.

Rebecca rubbed her face against his t-shirt and settled against him. He returned her to her carrier and took his cane from his wife. She bent, picked up the carrier and walked stiffly to the car.

House followed her more slowly, noting her stiff shoulders and rigid back.

"Great," he muttered. He wasn't sure why he antagonized her. He loved her but he found it impossible to resist the urge to bait her; push her; test her. Did he want her to leave him? He realized with a start that he didn't. He needed her and it scared the hell out of him.

House awoke with a start, instinctively tightening his grip on Rebecca. She snuffled against his neck but didn't awaken. Wilson sat in the chair next to the hammock where House lay with Rebecca on his chest.

"Have you even gone inside yet?" he asked House, stretching and yawning.

"Nope," House responded quietly. "I'd just get in the way."

Wilson watched Foreman and Thirteen lug empty boxes out of the house and drop them on the walkway. He leaned back in the chair and folded his hands over his stomach. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"You're scared," he told House.

"Here we go," House sighed. He absently rubbed his hand up and down his daughter's back.

"You're afraid to let yourself be happy."

"Tell me again where you got your psychiatry degree?"

"You think if you let yourself be happy, something bad will happen. Cameron will leave."

House rolled his eyes and shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in his leg. His leg always seemed to hurt worse when Wilson lectured him. At one time, he would have popped a Vicodin or three. He didn't have that to dull the pain any more. He closed his eyes and pretended to snore, hoping that Wilson would get the hint.

"Fine, ignore me," Wilson sighed. "But you know I'm right."

Chase appeared in the doorway and looked at them. He crossed to House and stood looking down at him.

"We're ordering pizza," he said quietly so as not to wake Rebecca. "Cameron says you're paying."

House looked at Wilson expectantly. Wilson grunted and leaned forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

"She said not to let Wilson pay," Chase told them coolly.

"Sleeping baby," House smirked. "Can't reach my wallet."

"She said not to let you use the baby as an excuse not to pay."

"She knows you," Wilson remarked. He rose and lifted Rebecca from House's chest and settled her against his shoulder. She jerked slightly and then relaxed against him, still sleeping deeply.

House sat up with difficulty and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He thrust a wad of cash at Chase. Chase shook his head.

"She also said you have to come inside and order it."

House groaned while Wilson laughed softly.

Chase held out his hand to House. House looked at the outstretched hand and then up at Chase. He sighed and allowed Chase to pull him to his feet. He retrieved his cane and made his way to the front door. He felt Chase's hand on his back, gently pushing him forward.

"She should have married you," House muttered as he entered the living room.

"She doesn't love me," Chase replied quietly, moving past him.

House looked around the spacious room. His piano sat facing the large bay window. Foreman and Thirteen were hanging his guitars on the wall beside the piano. Chase moved to a bookshelf and began placing books on the empty shelves. House looked around and saw Cameron and Cuddy unpacking dishes in the empty dining room. Rachel ran in circles around her mother.

House stopped in front of Cameron.

"Nice move sending your ex-boyfriend out," he told her.

"It got you in here, didn't it?" she asked, looking up at him.

He held out his hand. "Need my phone," he said. She'd taken it from him that morning, telling him he didn't need it if all he was going to do was sit on the porch all day.

She reached into her pocket and pulled his phone out. She held it out to him.

"Get salad, too," she told him. "The number's in the kitchen."

He rolled his eyes and limped into the kitchen. He looked around and saw the number for the local pizza delivery scribbled on a piece of paper stuck to the refrigerator. He placed the order and snapped his phone shut. He wandered back out into the dining room and leaned against the wall. Rachel still ran in circles. House smiled slightly as he watched her.

"I suppose you ordered a dining room table," he remarked.

Cameron moved past him with an armload of dishes. He turned to watch her stack them on the kitchen counter.

"I ordered a dining room set," she told him.

"Good," he nodded.

He pushed away from the wall and wandered back into the living room and down the long hallway. He looked into each room as he passed. Rebecca's room was bright and airy. The bathrooms were spacious. The third bedroom had been set up as an office. The fourth bedroom was empty. He supposed Cameron would make it into a guest room. At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. He walked in and stood looking around. All his furniture from the apartment had been moved in. He noticed his banjo leaning against the far wall. She'd arranged everything the way he liked it. The house felt comfortable. It made him nervous.

He made his way back out to the porch to wait for the pizza. Wilson sat holding Rebecca. She was awake and turned at the sound of House's approach. She smiled and held out her arms to him.

He hooked his cane over his arm and picked her up. He scowled at her and she laughed. "Why are you always so happy to see me?" he asked her, widening his eyes at her. She leaned against him and stuck her fist in her mouth. House leaned against the railing and stroked her silky blonde curls.

"How did I end up here?" he asked Wilson.

"You got lucky," Wilson replied.

House lay back in bed and watched Cameron. She turned off the bathroom light and smiled at him.

"I'm going to check on Rebecca," she told him. "I'll be right back."

House nodded. He leaned back against the pillows and sighed. The house was quiet. The neighborhood was quiet. Everything was so damn quiet he wanted to scream. Cameron returned and slipped into bed beside him. House needed to do something to dispel the sense of unease that crept over him. He leaned over Cameron and kissed her, pulling her against his chest. She returned his kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth, her hands moving over his back. He stripped her night gown off and pulled her panties from her, throwing both on the floor. She slid her hands under his t-shirt and pushed it over his head. Her mouth brushed against his chest as she slid his pajama bottoms over his hips and down his legs. Her hands traced patterns over the muscles of his back. His mouth closed over her breast, sucking and licking. He could hear her breathless cries as he reached between her legs and stroked her. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Leaning over him, she kissed him, her hair flowing around them. He pushed her back until she slid down on him. He thrust up against her. She braced her hands on his chest and rocked against him. He grunted as he moved in and out of her. She tilted her head back and he looked at her, running his hand down her throat.

"God, you are so beautiful," he panted. His hand closed over her breast, teasing the nipple. She leaned forward and thrust harder against him. He felt her muscles contract on him as she climaxed. Then he felt his own orgasm jerking through him. She collapsed against him. He held her and waited for his breathing to return to normal. Finally, she rolled off him and curled against his side. He stroked her hair back from her face.

"It's a nice house," he whispered.

She kissed him gently and pulled the covers up over them.

"I know," she told him. She settled against him and went to sleep. He lay for a long time, listening to her breathe. Finally, he fell asleep.

Wilson looked up when House entered his office.

"I need your help," House began. "You know how to please women."

Wilson looked at him in surprise. "Thank you?" he replied in surprise.

House sat in one of the chairs facing Wilson's desk. He folded his hands on his cane and looked Wilson in the eye.

"I need to know how to make this work with Cameron; how to make her happy."

"I've been divorced three times," Wilson reminded him. "I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask."

"You made Amber happy," House said quietly. "That's pretty big. She was a real cutthroat bitch, you know."

Wilson smiled. "What do you want to know?"

Cameron unlocked the front door and stepped inside. She dropped her bag on the floor next to the door and kicked her shoes off. Soft music filtered through the air. She looked around and saw that the dining room table was set for two complete with candles and flowers. House stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen holding Rebecca. He wore a dark blue suit, light blue shirt, and red tie. His hair was neatly combed and he had shaved. Rebecca was dressed in a soft blue dress and a blue ribbon nestled in her golden curls. She smiled and bounced in House's arms when she saw Cameron.

"Ma, ma, ma," she gurgled, holding out her arms to her mother.

House smiled as he gave her to Cameron. "She's been saying that and 'da' all day long," he told her. He rolled his eyes. "I wrote it in that book Thirteen gave you."

Cameron looked from her husband to her daughter, a bright smile illuminating her face.

"What have you done?" she asked.

He shrugged and reached for his cane which hung from the back of a dining room chair. "Four years ago you resigned. I asked you to stay," he told her. "You did." He tapped his cane on the floor and looked out the window, squinting slightly. "I'm glad you did."

"Did you do all this?" she asked indicating the table.

He shrugged. "I set the table and got Rebecca dressed and fed," he told her. "Wilson came over and cooked dinner."

"You shaved."

He scratched his cheek and smiled slightly. "I noticed Rebecca was getting beard burn."

Cameron nodded and kissed Rebecca's soft cheek. "Do you see how handsome your daddy is?" she asked. Rebecca was engrossed in pulling on Cameron's necklace and ignored the question.

"I want this to work," he told her quietly.

She looked at him in surprise. "I thought it was."

"I want to be a better husband. I want to be happy."

"You're not happy?" she asked quietly.

"I am, but it scares me," he confessed. "I don't want to lose you."

She moved to stand in front of him. Looking up into his eyes, she said, "You won't."

"You can't make a promise like that," he told her. "I could do something, say something."

"Greg," she sighed. "I love you. I know you. I'm not going to leave. I can't live without you."

"I don't want you to be miserable."

"I'm not."

"I don't want to be miserable."

"Then don't be," she replied, rising on tip toe to kiss him.

When she pulled away, he nodded. "I can't promise I'll be nicer or do romantic things for you."

"I don't need that," she told him. "I just need you."

"I love you," he told her. "Wilson said I should tell you that more often, so I'm going to try."

"I know you love me," she replied. "But it will be nice to hear it every once in a while."

"Well," he said. "Let's eat."

Cameron put Rebecca in her high chair while House brought out the dinner Wilson had prepared. As he sat down, he looked at his family. Cameron gave Rebecca a plastic key ring. Rebecca laughed and banged it on the tray of her high chair. Cameron turned to House and smiled. House reached across the table and took her hand in his. He smiled. Maybe he could have a happy ending after all.


End file.
